Loss and Chivalry: Tale of a Victor
by santiago.poncini20
Summary: The boy who apologised to his district partner when shaking hands, the one who was the pacifier of his alliance, the one who preferred to be in a fair fight or no fight at all...That is who won the 91th Hunger Games. But was his life? His aspirations, his hobbies, his dreams and hopes? Come, read, and see.


**Castor Yolk, and the people who told him he was destined for great things (and those who didn´t)**

* * *

 _ **His grandfather**_

At least that was what his Grandfather, Easton, had always told him since he was a kid. That big old man was always rambling about 'those ancient times, where a gentleman would pick up a lady by their hand and dance; where fights symbolised true honour and less about the bloody past. He truly was a man who loved to live in the past, even if he never truly experienced it.

However, that man did not like anyone touching his books. He was against people reading them, save for when his grandsons stayed at his home. Hell, he wouldn't even let his own wife read or touch his personal library, before he had died. He didn't let anyone see his books, unless he really trusted the person.

Because, as he knew, the Capitol did not like people in the districts to be 'cultured', and if they found out then the consequences would be big.

Castor usually listened to those stories he told him very carefully while Unik usually feel sleep, and Roso only cared about the gore of the fights. But Castor truly listened to the full of the story, his ears ready to hear a little bit more of that wonderful whisper he used to tell him when his brothers got bored and went to do something else, while Castor stayed.

Castor stayed not only because he liked the tales, but also because there was a mutual respect between the two.

When he was ten most of the kids on the district his age had started training a year or two ago already, Castor preferred to spend time with Easton Camden Yolk instead. He devoted his time to his stories, an only to that. He lived to listen and hear the tales of the Grimm Land.

But his grandfather was worried. He was worried that Castor wasn't going out and playing with the other kids, he was worried that he wasn't making friends; besides it's not normal for a teenage boy to spend all his time with his old grandpa, and he didn't want him to go the same path as he did.

"Will you tell me another story? I need an excuse not to go to another Great House party. They're boring, and I have to see everyone. Jade Virgos and Amber Overbrooke are loud and obnoxious; Jasper Villiers and Kiernan Hawkes always call me 'egg' and Fleur Windsor stares too much for my liking, that I think I might explode!" Castor ranted to the old man one afternoon after lunch.

"Well, it's time I tell you something, Castor." His grandfather spoke, wanting so much to just tell him that those stories were just that, stories, and that there is nothing in the world he could do to make the world look like that, something that he too had learned long ago.

But, instead, he said this:

"You are destined to do more than just spend all of your time with an old man like me."

And after a few complaints, Castor understood what he meant.

* * *

 _ **His best friend**_

When he tried hard to do something, he always succeeded.

Well, almost always.

After he entered Beacon Academy, he quickly became one of the fastest and strongest trainees (or so his father would proclaim in front of the other members of the Great Houses), and also became very good at swimming.

What fascinated Castor the most, however, were the swords, the longer ones precisely. The kind that were from the tales of great warriors that was told by Easton. The ones they used for battle to get the princesses from faraway lands, used to slay gigantic beasts. That was what drew him to training.

His grandfather was becoming sicker and weaker by the day, and the inability to do something about it was something Castor did not like. It tormented him, to see him suffer the way he did. It made him sad, numb and angry all over the place and it wasn't a very good idea to make a kid who's just started going through puberty, angry.

He started fights, lashing out at everyone in battles, playing 'competitions' out of nowhere, just because he wanted a reason to be able to fight like a man, to find a purpose when death was near him.

"Fight me!" He would shout, to provoke others into fighting him. "Fight me, if you're brave enough to do it. Fight me if you are a true warrior! Fight m-"

He would always be cut off by that time with a punch to the face. There were a few times when other kids accepted the challenge and he grabbed one of those longer swords and fought him like a gentleman (much like what Easton would say between coughs of blood).

One of those times he started fights was with a boy a year younger than him, famous for his instability and status on the district. He wasn't one of those children from the Great Houses, like he was, but he knew his family had money. The Lightburns and the St. Claire were such families that had this type of wealth; normally dubbed 'Lesser Houses' by those of the Greater Houses.

Because of all the comments he had heard in the reunions, young Castor believed the boy to be a peasant, someone not quite as good as him. When the dance of swords started, he had underestimated him because the only thing he cared about was the shouts from the other kids seeing the fight, he only saw red.

He ended up with a broken leg, but not without throwing his opponent to the ground as well. When he saw the other boy coming up to him after it, he was fearful, but was caught by surprise with an attempt of a handshake.

"Hey, Castor." It was directed to him, so he shook his hand and did what a gentleman would do after a fight; being respectful and talking. "You did good back there."

"You almost got me." Castor said.

"I don't understand why you keep wanting to fight the other students. You are way better than all of them. You should participate in that special program offered by the Academy, seriously man."

"Yeah, you should too." The Yolk kid said.

"We should do it together, if you're up to it?"

Castor hesitated mentally. He didn't know if he should trust this kid. Hell, he hadn't trusted anyone outside his brothers and his grandfather; even though his brothers often let him down, but there was something inside him that told him to trust him.

"Good. I mean, of course I'm up for the task!" He said practically shouting.

"I like your style." The boy laughed. "Meet me outside tomorrow and we'll continue training."

The kid, Berntstein Wolfe was surely a mess of a kid, but he did have some guts

* * *

 _ **The trainers at Beacon Academy**_

But what he didn't know was that they were watching him very closely. When he was in the Academy they tested him, they were impressed with his potential to better himself.

They watched him fight with the other kids with passion the hadn't seen in him; the charisma and manipulation skills impressed them even more; they watched him profoundly. Obviously, he lost fifty percent of the fights he was in, but they didn't care. Their job was to go into the world and find proper future volunteers and train them, as each trainer in the Academy had a job they had to do.

Jem St. James, Diamond Livingston and Hale Middleton discussed who would be the lucky volunteer going into the battle of life and death. Their job was to pick who is suitable to handle such pressure and end up victorious.

"I think we know it's either between Kiernan Hawkes, Magnus Hope or Castor Yolk." The other man, Diamond, said. "Who do you think is the best?"

"Well let's look at each of them separately: Kiernan is seventeen, but he is the most skilled of the three. Magnus, meanwhile, is smart but detached, and doesn't have anyone to fight for but himself considering he's orphaned, that could either deliver great things or terrible stuff. We don't want another Vermilion Voltaire incident. Lastly, Castor fights with a fiery passion that could bring us closer to another victor, but we won't know what would happen if that fire is drowned, you get me?" Hale surmised

The two other men looked at each other for a second and responded simultaneously:

"Yeah, of course we do." They echoed.

"Okay, then let's vote."

And after voting, they were still no closer to finding their volunteer, all three voting for separate people.

"Are we really this useless?" Hale said.

"Just relax; the solution will come." Diamond told him, always calm.

Just at that moment, something popped inside Jem's head.

"I think we should consult with him."

"No," Diamond said. "We can't show weakness so soon."

"He wouldn't care about that, not if we're asking for advice on which of the kids is destined for greater things."

And they went to him, to the victor.

* * *

 _ **Arthur Graff**_

"Hmm," He was deep in thought. "All of these kids have potential, but I think I know which on is 'the one'."

"You will be a victor soon." He said, with a smile on his face and a pat to his head. Castor's face was astonished as Arthur Graff visited the Academy when he was training.

"You will be a victor soon" He said to him the day of the selection of volunteers, Castor's future district partner standing next to him with her confident smile, Castor only showing his pride.

"You're so close to becoming a victor, Castor you need to press on." He said desperately in the control center, the pressure of not having a victor for over nine years and afraid of losing the 'career status' for his district, whilst his co-mentor Kaiser Aquilla was just laughing with, his sister Julia and Orion looking on apologetically when Travis Stone, the male tribute for Two, seemed about to get the win for their district.

"You will always be a victor, Castor." He said to him after drunk Kaiser had tried to beat him up during his Victory Tour, their stop in Two was eventful. Some bruises didn't hurt, others did. It was the usual stuff dealing with him apparently.

* * *

 _ **Amber Overbrooke**_

Her words stayed with Castor for a really long time and he will never forget her, but everyone who watched their games or knew Castor after his victory would knew that.

Everyone knew that girl had changed him for the better in some way, her death gave him the confidence he didn't have before. Sure, he was optimistic and pretty much calm, but there was something that wasn't there before is there now. Every time Castor returned to mentor for the Games, he saw the girls and only say her, the blonde-haired girl who was a bitched both on the outside and inside.

He couldn't let Amber die by his hands again.

So, he tried. He tried so hard, but he was still failing. The Ninety-Second fell off a cliff, the one in the Ninety-Third was killed so close to the finale, and the one in the Ninety-Fourth had met her end in the bloodbath. He couldn't bring any of these girls back home, and Arthur the boys.

Until Castor could do it.

He rushed to the medical bay where she was, dehydrated and skin almost melting from the heat of the arena. She looked like she had been inside of an oven for days, which, if you count the temperature of the arena, it might have been a pretty big one.

She was in a weak state and he couldn't do anything but plead. Plead people to give her some water and send them to hell when she meant 'The Capitol Water', and God she reminds him of Amber so much. But in another way, she was not, she would cry for months after her victory, regretful of what she had done, something he truly believed that Amber would never do.

And Castor would comfort her.

"Shh, it's okay Aria." He says as she rocks back and forth in the corner of her cabin in the train. "Remember, take a deep breath and let it all out. Yell into a pillow if you have to."

Because he knew that's what a gentleman would do, right? Calm a lady and treat her with respect. He didn't even know if he was one anymore.

* * *

 _ **His Family**_

Well, not all of it.

His father was a bastard, and he learned with time that his mother would sell him in an instant if it meant getting her fifteen minutes of pure Capitol fame, but even before he knew this, his brothers were there for him; especially after his grandfather's death. They were the only ones who truly understood his dive into grief and accompanied him on it.

One day, after the funeral, when he was with Unik walking home, the started talking. Well, Unik did most of the talking.

"You know you were his favorite?"

Castor looked at him with a mix of concern and surprise in his eye.

"No, I wasn´t. He loved all of us the same. He-

Before he could continue talking, Unik stopped him and spoke:

"You don't know how lucky you are. Everyone looks up to you and loves you. Mom and dad think highly of you, as their golden ticket to infinite riches and fame. You are the perfect golden boy, the one who receives everybody's love and grace; and even when he fails is still rewarded. You know what grandpa said before he died?"

Castor, overwhelmed, could only stutter or murmur.

"He said 'I was lucky to have one great grandson, and two useful ones.' Don´t you understand that?"

"He wa-was very ill, he probably didn´t know what he was saying, Unik" Castor excused him.

"No, that´s not true and you know that Castor. He wanted to say that, he meant it and he said straight to my face."

Castor was perplexed and worried and seeing his brother losing his cool and becoming all frustrated, something he never knew he could get like that. You don't get the nickname 'Cool Yolk' for a reason, right?

Well there they were, almost arguing for something that already happened and could not be mended.

"I am saying…" Unik proceeded "You should look outside your own mind bubble sometimes, dude."

"But..." But before he could say anything, they had arrived home and Roso was at the front playing with the Lancaster´s kids, something their parents' didn´t like. But that distraction made him lose sight of what they are talking about.

At least until the Hunger Games arrived properly to his life. Then he learned a lot of lessons about luck.

* * *

 _ **Life**_

"Egg! Egg eggy egg!" Kiernan and Jasper used to call him every time they saw him.

"Come on, one more fight" Bernstein and he used to say while practicing.

 _Keep it up; you can do it_ , He told himself, trying to impress the trainers when he was battling for the spot.

"Show me that boy Career façade break!" he had heard the crazy District Three girl tell him in the finale, but he isn´t sure.

"Please, let me die" Amber and Aria have both said to Castor at one point of their lives.

"You are just a useless and weak human being!" His father had told him after his victory in the Games.

But with time, he learned something,

None of that mattered, because he was Castor Yolk and that was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

 **He won the 91th Hunger Games of one of Alecxias´s Works, which was a syot. Go read his works and see for yourselves!**


End file.
